Today is Tuesday the twenty-first day of February in 2012 A.D., the day of the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit; the day of the salvation, redemption, providence, and blessing of the almighty Lord God Most High. If not today then what other day is there?

These people are phoneys (OMG! P'honies!). I do not mean that as an insult. I do not mean that as name-calling. I do not mean that as a provocation. This is the absolute truth. The people in this area are phoneys.

In the world you have phoneys and jobbies. The rich man and Lazarus. Lazarus hates his job and wishes he could be somebody. The rich man, similarly, hates his job (when he must take one as part of the phoney act), and wishes that he could be somebody (for more than a few weeks at a time). "I cannot stand to have a relationship with a spook! You need to tell me more about yourself! Don't you wish you could just settle down and have one identity for a while?" "Well, you could, but then you may as well be a jobbie." or "Honey! If I try to walk away from the life with the phoneys they'll hunt me down and kill me worse than the homeless!"

The phoneys envy the jobbies. You have paperwork which matches and only one set of it. You earn your money and determine what you are able to get by the money you've earned. It doesn't work like that for phonies. They have multiple birth certificates, collections of driver's licenses and other ID cards, they have reams of insurance paperwork (if they have any at all) and none of those names matches the name on their rent or mortgage (which they don't even know). They live where they are told to live; though, sometimes, they may put in a request which may or may not even be answered. They go where they are told to go; though, sometimes, they may put in a request for a variation in assignment. Their name is whatever they were told their name is today (or this week, or this month, or for these scheduled hours).

The population ratio is similar to class size: about thirty to one. Phoneys do not get to go home at the end of shift--if their assigned class of jobbies has an unexpected change such as a date or a long lunch or you decide to take a drive through the countryside after work then the phoney assigned to watch you must phone in to the contact number and report the change of plan and arrange for a replacement or a helper or else they themselves must spend their time following whatever wild goose chase you decide to go on. Most jobbies follow their pre-planned script well or, if you decide to take an extra twenty minutes on a back road or you get lost, you are not personally on that day of enough importance to merit hunting down--your assigned phoney will pick you up when you reemerge onto the main public thoroughfare.

In the old days phoneys were real phonies and knew how to keep their mouths shut. If they didn't they could be tarred and feathered or thrown into a brig before their buddies are able to rescue them. A jailbreak is the aristocrats arriving to rescue a phoney who was discovered. A witch hunt is a group of jobbies who have discovered a phoney amongst them. Nowadays they're all tele-phonies and their buddies are a phone call away.

If you sit on the interstate, or at a bridge, or at an intersection, and take down license plate numbers and check them you will receive mostly names and addresses with a few unknowns, or service unavailable, or file not found, or no information.

If you sit in the alleyway in La Jolla, CA, USA (92037) and take down license plate numbers you will receive about 80% file not found, service unavailable, plate not in circulation (ie. the plate is supposed to be in the stack in the back room of a car dealership somewhere), nonexistant plate, no record available, etc. They're all phoneys. La Jolla, CA, USA (92037) is one of many small tucked-in areas in metroplexes across the world that functions as a truckstop for the phoneys. The phoneys spend the rest of their day following around,.monitoring, tagging, antagonizing, harassing, policing, herding, and interfering with the jobbies. The phoneys tell themselves that it is better to be a phoney than a jobbie because they live longer--because the phoneys spend their lives killing on the jobbies much the same as women spend their lives hunting on the men.

You will never catch a phoney because, even if you write them a ticket or haul them in once, they spend their entire lives changing their name daily, weekly, monthly. They function within a population which evolved, earlier than Genesis six, a system of walking routes between towns that they could avoid being tarred and feathered if they were found out. That is a long time with all of the tricks and maneuvers and plays and fakes and interference and distractions planned and coordinated and mapped out and set up ahead of time. "If some of you have so much money and time that all you do is walk around and cause problems then we need to know who you are because we are trying to get some work done! Size on these armbands!" (circa 1935) Response: "But... but... but... It's out _JOB!_ We have to do it or else they'll call the bank, and the bank will call the gestapo, and we won't have any place to live!" It has been a circle jerk since 10000 B.C.

The rich man isn't really that rich. The phoneys, as a population group, control more material wealth but, individually, they go where they are told, they do what they are told, they live where they are told, they eat where they are told, they take whatever drugs they are told, and they have whatever sex they are told (that's the really stupid part--I've been celibate for over twelve years, no sexual contact with anyone but the Lord, and I am now homeless... I don't need a place to live, or sexual contact with one of you diseased malfunctioning wet boogers, that bad--most of you diseased wet boogers do not want sexual contact, even with yourself, after age thirty anyway). As a group they have access to the newer homes, the more lush and spacious housing developments, and they operate the designer parts of towns and malls and the perceived "rich" districts but, as individuals, they are just as likely to be assigned to some hovel in the ghetto and driving some hooptie with broken down wheels and bad brakes because they need to fit in and maintain the phoney ruse. They are able to request modifications in their itinerary and lifestyle but, when it comes down to it, they are as helpless as any jobbie. They are able to bill dinners and vehicles and toys to their expense reports when it fits in with their assigned class of jobbies to watch and monitor--but in terms of spending cash, on the way home from work, many of them have the same "soda or candy bar... but cannot afford both" decision as any jobbie or even homeless impoverished person.

The phonies hate me and other homeless because, over the week, I have more free time and nearly as much liquid spending capital as any of them do.

You are paranoid. You're a conspiracy theorist. You think people are following you and out to get you.

Well, yes, there are. And I have their license plates right here. But it won't do me any good. Those license plates are mostly phonies (except for a few jobbies that I caught and a few of the phoneys that drive real registered vehicles because their assignment may be in a part of town where the license plate number may be checked by a gung-ho police officer having a good day and feeling extra energetic about his job). I could take the entire list into a court of law and... so what? Unless you tow each and every vehicle to the courthouse then you're either crazy or else you made mistakes in every one. If you try to tow a vehicle or two to the courthouse then you've proven nothing and you'll never find the person attached to that vehicle.

Phoneys do not reclaim lost vehicles. The vehicles sit in the impound until they expire, they are sold into the auction, the auction sells them to the bulk dealerships, and the bulk dealerships randomize the vehicle population and the asset department for the phoneys purchases them from there. Phoneys do not worry about going to jail. They change names on demand (every few hours) anyway. If they are somehow caught up in a truly noteworthy event then they make their telephone call and, by sometime next week, they'll be living at some other address, perhaps in another state, with a completely new set of paperwork. The paperwork attached to the identity which was caught up in the issue will be soon after attached to a missing person's report which may or may not include a verified dead body in the near future.

I am going to enter in to the database the next two hundred license plate numbers which I have: as I took the time to write them all down. I may continue on with license plates. What's the point? To prove that I am the first person in the history of the United States to make a list of all of the phoney license plates? I am also the first person in the United States to stand on a street corner with the traffic of Torrey Pines and Girard and give both birds (middle finger up) to traffic for four days--without being taken into custody (the police, when they arrived, asked of me politely to stop doing that and go for a walk around the block--which request I dutifully and politely cooperated with).

There is no geographic "uncanny valley". The uncanny valley effect (that same weird psychological revulsion) has been invoked to describe weird coincidences which occur in and around Hollywood and other wealthy secluded areas in California. People in other areas of the world may have some other excuse that they give to those times, days, or seasons of unusual coincidences and inexplicable happenstances. It is not coincidence. It is not "uncanny valley". It is sixty-three thousand spooks, nobodies, phoneys, and a few dozen people under witness protection all living in one tight packed area. The entire San Diego area is architecturally designed to be chutes-and-ladders for the jericho mob (the phonies). They chute up the 5, eat or have coffee or walk around Del Mar or UTC, cruise through La Jolla and Pacific Beach and kill on the homeless along the way, then proceed down to the metroplex area where they take care of (ladder) their assigned class of jobbies for four or five hours. Take a one hour break, chute up the I-5, stop and eat or have coffee or walk around the toy areas of Del Mar, UTC, and La Jolla, kill on the homeless through La Jolla and Pacific Beach, monitor their second shift group of jobbies... and then, if nothing else goes wrong, they go home.

Some of the people in this area thought they were special, or that they were protected, or that they were under witness protection, or that they were priveleged. They acquiesced to situations because,"We're taking special care of you, and you're living in an area full of international entrepeneurs and investment brokers and big time real estate developers. You _need_ to help us follow along with this script, you _need_ to date this person, you need to go out with that person, you need to go to this party..." and, in some instances,"you _need_ to have sex with that person" because "we're putting in the extra effort to take special care of your case and keep you protected and this happened and that happened and we need you to do this or else everything will go wrong and the whole thing will be blown open."

Imagine the shock and hysterical laughter if those people in witness protection, going to their psychiatrist to get over their victimization complex, and going to their group therapy to assist with their paranoia complex, and taking their medications to help stifle their anxiety attacks because they are a single lone special individual with a secret identity living in this special and important area with all of these wealthy international people...

And then you find out that _NOBODIES'_ license plate checks through the DMV around here. Catching phoneys is as easy as walking down the street and writing down every license plate you see because this entire area is a truck stop for a system of phonies which has been running since millenia before Genesis six.

Ha-ha! Joke's on you.

If you are a jobbie in this area then, understand, you are here as a playground entertainment playtoy for the phoneys who ride through here.

Asian people, especially, have no trouble working within and even operating at coordinating levels of the phoney system (been going on since Genesis six--Asian people are what would happen if twenty generations of your family would hold their eyes half-lidded like Sylvester Stallone). They all have single syllable names because the "hive mind", the phoney system, is embedded into their society. If they enter into a profession (eg. scientific or government) in our society which requires lasting signatures on paperwork then they will take on more complex names to fit in. Likely why they were taught to hold their eyes half-lidded since about a hundred generations before Noah. If any of you Europeans (or Africans, or Americans, or even Indians) could practice a religion and work on coordinating your "desires" properly for about twenty generations then your facial muscles would begin to take on the same posture as the east Asians. Instead the rest of you have been taught to leave your desires wide open all the time because that makes you easier for the east Asians to exploit (since about a hundred or more generations before Noah).

Characters, content, and plates.

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